


It's All For You

by rainbowbaz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 22:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowbaz/pseuds/rainbowbaz
Summary: "If you're going to kiss me, I want it to be from you."Natasha's ghost visits Simon in the middle of the night, and he needs to pass on her message. Unfortunately, this just so happens to involve kissing Baz, who is supposed to be his enemy... right?





	It's All For You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2nd Birthday, Carry On! To celebrate, here is my twist on one of my favourite moments in the book. 
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta @eroticgropefest for the prompt and for helping me pull off this last-minute fic! And big thanks to @carry-on-bday-2017 on Tumblr for helping me get out of my writer's block and post something to celebrate the occassion <3

After Natasha kissed Simon on the temple on that cold, autumn night, he was filled with a sense of dread.

At the time, he felt content, because although she felt so cold she had a warmth that Simon had never felt before. A motherly warmth; the kind of tenderness he longed for as a child. But once Simon was left alone he continued to tremble in the absence of the cold. Because that kiss, that affection – it wasn’t for him. 

It was for Baz. His roommate, his enemy. The one he trusts the least. It’s only ever been fighting between them – it’s even stated in the prophecy. The only thing stopping them from killing each other has been the Anathema. 

And perhaps if Simon were cold like Baz, he would forget that Natasha had ever visited him. The Pitches – they are so dark, and cruel, that Simon does not owe them anything. He never has – that’s what the Mage tells him. There is no reason he should have had to pass on that kiss at all.

But Simon isn’t cold. He’s warm, and dangerously loving, and thinks too much. And he hears Baz scream in his sleep – plagued by nightmares of his mother’s death. It’s the one vulnerability that Simon has never ridiculed or used to his advantage. He hasn’t been able to.

Because Simon would kill to be in the arms of his mother, even if it were just for a second. He doesn’t care that she abandoned him – he would forgive her in an instant if she just held him close. And he knows that Baz would do the same. He’s been broken since his mother’s death, and Simon can’t bear the guilt of hiding the piece that could build Baz back together. He has to pass on the message. He has no choice.

-

It’s dark in their room, and Baz has his head in his hands, as Simon sits opposite him, desperately trying to find the right words.

“And then what did she say, Snow? Was there anything else?”

Baz lifts his head, tears marking his cheeks, and Simon can’t meet his gaze. Because all he has done is bring Baz more pain, more _anger_ about his mother’s death. More desperation to find answers. Simon has done nothing to comfort him, nothing to remind Baz of his mother’s love. And he can’t find the words to convey her warmth; the warmth that Simon felt that night, the comfort that wrapped around him like a blanket.

“I… I don’t –”

“Say it,” Baz says, voice breaking at the end. “Tell me, Snow. I need to know everything.”

Simon looks at Baz, _really_ looks at him. The moonlight casting shadows over his face, the soft hope in his eyes. He knows that he has to do it.

He crosses the space between their beds, gently sitting down next to Baz until he is close enough to hear the escalation of his breathing, the thudding of his heart. Baz looks at him, tentatively, gaze sweeping lines between Simon’s moles. 

“Snow –”

“She told me to give you this,” Simon whispers, hovering his mouth over Baz’s temple. Baz closes his eyes, gulping as he gets even closer to him, if that is even possible, and –

“Simon. Don’t.” Baz’s eyes snap open, and he gets off the bed as if he’s been scorched, crossing his arms by the window. He stares out into the Wavering Wood, trying not to think about Simon’s lips being so close.

Simon shakes his head, confused. “But your mum –”

“I know. Thank you for passing on the message, Snow, but I get it. You didn’t need to actually _show_ me.”

“You called me Simon before,” he protests, standing up to mirror him. Baz turns around, and Simon feels a pang of guilt – because _Crowley,_ he looks dreadful, and Simon shouldn’t be playing with him like this. Not now, after finding out about his mum. “Sorry,” he adds, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Baz watches him. “I was just trying to help, but I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have confused things.”

“Don’t apologise, Snow, for fuck’s sake.” Baz snaps, and Simon’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised by him swearing like a Normal. “It’s my fault, I – I can’t handle you being close to me like that.” Baz barely knows what he’s doing, being so frankly honest; there’s something about the moonlight that draws out his secrets. “Because if you’re going to kiss me, I want it to be from you. _Crowley,_ Snow – I can’t think when you’re that close to me. It makes me feel too much,” he whispers, as if it’s a dark confession, but it doesn’t seem dark at all to Simon.

Everything seems to fall into place. Simon feels an instinct – to protect him, to stop him from hurting, to stop _all of this._ Baz’s face is burning in the dark, like wildfire spreading into the pit of Simon’s stomach. (It’s always fire with Baz.) 

He steps towards him, fearlessly, daring to skate his thumb across Baz’s cheek, drying his tears. “Don’t think for a while, Baz,” he whispers. “I’m going to help you figure this out. We’ll find Nicodemus. We’ll bring peace to your mother. Okay?”

Simon cups his hand around Baz’s cheek, watching as he relaxes into the touch. “You don’t have to help me, Simon. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you one thing,” he replies, leaning in closer, closer, _closer,_ until their noses are touching, and Baz’s eyes flutter shut. “This one’s from me,” he whispers, and he finally closes the gap between them – the gap that’s been open for years – and by some miracle, _Baz kisses him back._

It feels good to have Baz where Simon wants him – in his arms, intertwined with him, where he can’t be hurting, or mournful, or thinking about too much. Where he can be safe, even if it is only for a moment. Where he can just _let go._

Baz pulls away and Simon rests his hands on his chest, keeping him there; keeping him close. “So, I assume that we’re on a truce?” he grins, and Simon gets onto his tiptoes, pressing a light kiss to the end of his nose. 

“Truce?”

Baz laughs, but he’s blushing, and the fire spreads again to Simon’s heart. “One kiss, and you think all the world’s problems are solved.”

“If we can solve this problem, then we can find Nicodemus and bring your mother to peace. Easy.” 

Baz raises an eyebrow, smirking in a way Simon once found infuriating. (He doesn’t anymore.) “I’m not used to you being so determined.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. And anyway,” he says, licking his lips and gently pushing Baz against the wall, “it’s two kisses.”

He takes him by the collar and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I have some longer fics in the works, but I hope this small one will help you forgive me for not posting in a while <3  
> Feedback is appreciated, as always!!!  
> Also, I have Tumblr now, where I am posting writing updates every now and then, amongst other things! Feel free to follow me @rainbowbaz and send me prompts!!! <3


End file.
